How To Survive Your Own Wedding
by AmazinglyMe
Summary: Loose threads, clueless best men, minor panic attacks, and place setting related fiascos. Welcome to Ron and Hermione's wedding, as seen through the eyes of their best man and maidofhonor, respectively. Deathly Hallows spoilers!


_A/N: RonxHermione wedding fluff. It's actually mostly about Ron and Hermione separately, interacting with other people on their wedding day. Harry and Ginny's reactions to the duties of best man and maid-of-honor, etc., etc. I really, really wanted to write some happy post-DH fic. _ ;

_PG for a few bad words and one somewhat suggestive sentence. _

* * *

The morning is a flurry of last minute dress alterations, place settings gone horribly wrong, and her mother ironing things by hand, insisting that they'll turn out better that way. She fidgets throughout the dress alterations and has a (minor) panic attack over the place settings, but the ironing is strangely comforting.

And Ginny, in the middle of dealing with several fiascos, place settings and otherwise, says, "Oh for Merlin's sake Hermione, you're marrying _Ron Weasley_! This is nothing! You think the place settings are bad -- you must be completely bonkers!"

At which point Hermione takes a few very deep breaths, pulls herself together, sets Bill, Charlie, and George to work fixing the place settings. She issues a very stern, cool, calm and collected threat first, regarding the various painful and humiliating things that could happen to them should they decide to label them -- here she purses her lips, pauses, and then says, in a voice that speaks of the deepest pits of Chores and Quite Possibly Maid Uniforms As Punishment -- _creatively_.

* * *

Harry sort of feels as though there's something he ought to be doing, or saying, because Ron's sort of sitting on a bench in the Weasley's garden, and he looks sort of overwhelmed, and Harry's pretty near sure it's his job, as best man, to do something about that. But all Harry remembers about marrying Ginny, which he did three months after the war, was the feeling of bliss ballooning through his stomach and the rush of disbelief which passed him by somewhere near his left ear and left him to have his first dance with his new wife. 

So. A fat lot of good he is in this situation. He ought to go get Bill. Or George. Well, on second thought, not George, because Harry is ninety percent sure that the flower in George's buttonhole is one that squirts water at people. So maybe Bill.

Except, of course, Bill married a Veela, didn't he, and well, he's pretty sure that the relationship of Ron and Hermione is a fairly unique animal. In fact, he isn't quite certain that anyone else could dispense any useful advice to Ron, and if the advice is going to be regarding Hermione, then he, Harry, is in fact probably best suited to give it.

So he thinks.

He thinks about how Ron proposed, and kept messing up his prepared script, and about how halfway through the whole fiasco Hermione started crying, which of course left Ron fumbling and horrified until he realized that they were _happy_ tears, an idea Ron was still coming to terms with, and that she was actually saying yes, because even though he'd only gotten to "and, see, the thing is that, well, when I left -- um, not that I really plan on bringing this up often, but I did leave, you know, during the Horcrux hunt, and the thing is that I wanted to turn around when I heard you yelling for me, and I mean, bloody hell, I cared about you as much as I cared about Harry, but differently, obviously, and here's the thing, it's that I didn't just miss you Hermione, I sort of couldn't not be where you were, because it was in the middle of a war, and --"

At which point she accepted, and he never got to finish his speech, which was alright because, as Ron told Harry later, quite cheerfully, he'd forgotten it anyway.

Harry thinks about that for a while, and Ron sits with his head in his hands, saying things like, "bloody frightening," and, "she's going to hate me after a week," at which point Harry feels sort of obligated to intervene.

He tries to think of something wise to say, something Dumbledore-like, or sage-like, or at the very least best man-like, but all he can come up with, after spotting yet another beautiful and elaborate flower arrangement being carried into the house, is, "Just, don't throw up on anything, alright?"

Ron considers this for a bare moment, and a bit of color returns to his face. He claps Harry on the back, gives a short sigh, and says, "Thanks mate." 

Blessed normalcy, is the term Ron will use to describe it later. Hermione will hear the story, burst into tears, and say something about "boys" and "ridiculous" and then give Harry a hug.

* * *

Harry feels sometimes like he's the closest thing to a brother Hermione has, considering that her other best friend is about to marry her, and that cements their relationship as decidedly Not Platonic. So he thinks maybe he ought to say something to Ron along the lines of, "If you hurt her..." That traditional, older brother bit.

But he steps back from the situation for a minute, and remembers Ron's lamentations about how _messy_ he is, and about how bloody hell, Hermione'll hate that, and realizes that Ron will probably go so far as to _not get out his Chudley Cannons posters_ for a good week after he and Hermione have unpacked, because, well, they could hardly be qualified as neat, could they? At which point Harry knows (as if there was ever any doubt) that Ron will not be hurting Hermione.

Hermione is behaving remarkably calmly. She is, in fact, speaking in a very steady, level voice. It's starting to worry Ginny, because it's possible that this is the result of sedation, or denial, or maybe a bargain with the devil. It isn't that Hermione doesn't show her best when chaos is flying around her, it's just that usually the chaos isn't centered directly on her, and Ginny isn't sure anyone should react quite this well.

Hermione's evaluating herself in the mirror, examining her dress from several angles and critically tugging at a stray thread. Ginny is fixing Hermione's hair up into a bun, her mouth full of bobby pins because, like ironing, there are some things that on a day like today, Hermione wants done the Muggle way. Ginny's fairly handy with bobby pins as it turns out.

It's while this is happening (and while Mrs. Weasley is shouting furiously at her husband, who is supposed to be helping her in the kitchen, and Bill and Fleur, who both have parts in the ceremony, have disappeared into a quiet dark corner, because Fleur Has A Headache, and Lavender Brown has appeared with a bottle of Firewhiskey in her hand, looking hazily vindictive) that Hermione, still cool, still calm, and still collected, happens to glance upward to see how her hair is coming along.

It's coming along quite well actually, until Hermione catches a glimpse of the ring on Ginny's hand, starts, gasps, and sits down quite heavily, brining a protesting Ginny with her.

They sit on the floor while Ginny tries to salvage the bun and Hermione cries, big, gulping (happy) sobs that Ron would not doubt be terrified by. Ginny can only hope that Harry is doing his job by keeping Ron somewhere, specifically somewhere far away, and that she can do hers by figuring out what the decidedly nervous (but happy) sobs are about.

"I'm going to get m-m-married!" Hermione announces to the room at large, and specifically to Ginny's teddy bear, which is sitting just at Hermione's eye level on one of Ginny's shelves.

"Yes," Ginny agrees conversationally, sliding a bobby pin in to keep Hermione's bangs in place.

There is a busy silence, filled by shuddering breaths from Hermione and small concentrating noises from Ginny, who can't quite get the fifteen millionth bobby pin to sit right.

"Ginny," Hermione says in a timid, slightly choked voice, "what's it like?"

Ginny tries to decide whether or not to be funny and decides that at this point she probably can't avoid it.

"Getting married," Ginny says, "is like being run over by a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs, and liking it."

Hermione sobs some more. Apparently this analogy has appealed to her sense of sentimentality. Ginny isn't sure how exactly.

Eventually, in between the sobs and the small, pained noises from Ginny regarding things like Movement of Hermione's Head, namely, how it should stop, Hermione says, in a very small voice, "What if I mess it up?"

Ginny sits back, not because she's finished Hermione's hair (though, actually, she has) but because that sentence has appealed to her sense of sentimentality.

"C'mon," Ginny says, standing and pulling Hermione with her, "we're going on a -- on a field trip."

They are, in fact, going across the hall to Ron's bedroom. Ginny pushes the door open to reveal immense amounts of posters, rubbish, mess, and general boy-ness. Every surface is covered with something, or several somethings, and none of the somethings are clean.

Hermione's mouth twists sideways in an expression that is half disgust and half blind adoration. Ginny decides that yes, she is definitely the girl to marry Ron.

"Now look at this." Ginny says, and drags Hermione over to Ron's bedside table, which is covered with innumerable things, among them two books, last week's Daily Prophet (open the Quidditch scores), an old ticket stub from a Cannons game, and -- there.

"You see?" Ginny asks, but Hermione shakes her head, bewildered.

Ginny is pointing to a letter. A dog-eared, creased letter with a spot of grease in one corner. A letter From Hermione Granger and To Ron Weasley, regarding the fact that Hermione's going to arrive at the Burrow in four days. Ginny's sure that's lots of other mush in the letter too, private mush, which she won't be reading, but that isn't the point.  
"It's a letter!" Ginny says, feeling rather frustrated. Anyone ought to get it by now. "From you! And it's on his bedside table!"

But, Ginny realizes, Hermione doesn't know what used to be where the letter is now. She grins suddenly, and says, "Know what used to be there?"

And, as previously noted, Hermione doesn't.

"His commemorative poster from the one and only year the Chudley Cannons ever won the Quidditch World Cup, second edition, still in the plastic." Ginny announces, and then drags a stunned, euphoric, and tearful Hermione from the room, because her bangs are coming loose again.

* * *

In the end, Things Work Themselves Out. This is a phrase Mrs. Weasley is fond of using but has never really believed, as is evidenced by the minute planning regarding the serving of the chocolate truffles. But, as it turns out, Things Do. 

Harry would be thinking about how lucky it was that Things were so cooperative if he wasn't feeling dazed and thrilled and generally happy about the fact that his two best friends had just gotten married, and no one had run off, and no one had thrown up, and while many people had shouted, no one had done so during the ceremony. At the moment George was taking bets about when the pair's first knock-down, drag-out fight would be. Harry had placed a confident bet on 'tomorrow' five minutes ago.

Ron had, Harry thinks, _looked_ a bit like he might throw up, but only until Hermione appeared from wherever brides are hidden until they're supposed to walk down the aisle, at which point he'd promptly turned from green to bright red with an enormous grin. It was at that point that Harry knew that all he had to do for the rest of the ceremony was smile and stand still, because his duties as best man were pretty well finished.

That was, of course, in the heat of a giddily happy moment, and now he's remembered that he's supposed to make a toast, being best man and all, and that this is one Thing that might not Work Itself Out.

He stands up, clears his throat uncertainly, and glances at Ron and Hermione, who are sitting with their fingers intertwined looking quite simply happy, and also very much like his best friends, at which point Harry decides that he can probably just make up the best man speech and it'll be alright.

There is some later dispute regarding this theory, since his speech consisted of some very nice things and some very good jokes, and one or two very bad jokes, and one swift trip down memory lane to the day Hermione set canaries after Ron, which, while not amusing at the time, was hilarious in retrospect, to a group of wedding guests who were, in general terms, Everyone But The Bride. Then he spent some time floundering around, was reminded irresistibly of Ron's own proposal, tried to hold back his laughter, failed, snorted loudly, and sat down.

Sometimes, that's just the way Things are.

* * *

_A/N: So the basic message of this story, besides "gosh, AmazinglyMe sure does love her R/Hr fluff," was, "gosh, AmazinglyMe isn't dead!" Yes, that's right, I'm just partially maimed, courtesy of school. Life, as it turns out, doesn't want me to have the time to sit down and take deep breaths. Anyway, this fic is hopefully a sign of my nearing return to the world of and to my Angelina story. I'm crossing my fingers. _: 


End file.
